When Fate Deals a Hand
by Pirligirl0120
Summary: There's an old saying: if you don't like the hand that fate's dealt you, fight for a new one. However, from time to time, fate can deal you a winning hand. And when it does, it's in your best interest to play it. After all, you can't really change the cards you're dealt; you can only change the way you play the hand. Gambit x Self-Insert
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel or any of its characters or creations. I make no money off this.**_

 _ **This is my Wolverine and the X-/men self-insert x Gambit fanfic (he's my imaginary boyfriend; so super-hot!). I'm not going to use any real first names in this story, only real last names, (I'm called Mikayla in this story because that's what my Momma almost named me). This story is based off a real life dream I had; to date, it's one of my top three most favorite dreams ever.**_

 _ **Also, I understand you're probably going to comment and critique this (and I accept that). But please, don't be douches about it. I'd seen so many authors get their self-insert fanfics shot down because, in the readers' words, they were "unrealistic.'' Well, guess what people: it's FICTION! Nothing about it's real! They didn't twist your arms to read their stories, and neither will I. If you like it, great! Wonderful! Please stay and enjoy! If you don't, fuck it and move on, cuz I'm going to keep writing it the way I want to despite what you say.**_

 _ **That being said, I hope you guys like this.**_

 _ **I'll tell you a little about the real me that relates to my character (called Mikayla Pearl in the fic**_ _ **):**_

 _ **.I know taekwondo, kickboxing, archery, gun shooting, yoga and Zumba.**_

 _ **.I'm really Southern born and bred; a pureblood Appalachian from Lexington, KY.**_

 _ **.I have a pretty singing voice (though not like Mariah Carey or Shelby Laine (Mikayla's stage alter ego).**_

 _ **.I'm a good business woman (people say I'm like Satan when I'm at my most cunning and craftiest).**_

 _ **.I work out like a fiend.**_

 _ **.I can speak a bit of French, Chinese and Spanish.**_

 _ **.I have a thick Southern accent (I call people "sugar,'' "darling,'' "honey,'' "sweetheart,'' all the time. My real voice sounds just like Tara Strong when she's doing a Southern accent).**_

 _ **.I can really, really throw down in the kitchen.**_

 _ **.I know natural healing, herbalism and homeopathy (practice of herbal remedies; not the study of gay men)!**_

 _ **.I'm blonde with green eyes and fair skin.**_

 _ **.I'm 5'5.**_

 _ **.I have an older full brother and an older stepsister.**_

 _ **.My Dad's remarried to a woman with five sons (my stepbrothers).**_

 _ **.I can draw, write songs and poetry, paint and play guitar, dulcimer & piano. **_

_**.My Dad's a cop, my Mom's a doctor, my stepdad's a therapist, my stepsister's a teacher and my brother's in the Airforce.**_

 _ **.I've taken up fencing and whip training.**_

 _ **.I like horseback riding, running, being outdoors, nature, yoga, guns, archery, shopping, music, singing, baking, cooking, art, writing, flowers, animals, children (I adore them to pieces), horses (duh!), fairy tales, Victorian décor, the color pink (my fave color), sweets, exercising, kickboxing, comics, Gambit, my Southern heritage and my family & friends**_

 _ **.My birthday is January 20, 1991 (I'm an Aquarius).**_

 _ **Chap. 1: Action**_

Mikayla sat on the swivel chair in her dressing room, water bottle in hand, the sounds of Goo Goo Dolls "Slide'' on the radio drifting in the air. Through the thick walls of the backstage, her sharp, enhanced hearing could hear the roar of the audience packed in wall-to-wall of the Madison Square Garden as they chanted her name; well her stage name anyway, "Shelby Laine!''

For any other pop diva superstar, this night would be one of great excitement and zest, adrenaline pumping through their veins faster than crack cocaine.

But not for Mikayla, for her, this night was riddled with anxiety, making her feel almost drained. And it wasn't because of the show. She'd done millions and never got stage fright; she loved the spotlight.

No, this was for different reasons entirely.

She stole a look at the clock hanging on her dressing room wall. The hands displayed to her that the time was now seven o'clock PM, just half an hour before the show. _An jus' fo' 'ours away_ _from the real show_ , she thought to herself, breathing in and out slowly.

If she needed sleep anymore, she would've looked exhausted, thanks to not getting a wink of sleep the night before. She just thanked God above that sleep was no longer a requirement for her; it made doing all the things she did possible.

Taking a swig of her Aquafina, she heard a knock at the door.

TAP! TAP!

"Come on in,'' she drawled lazily in her husky Southern accent. The door opened to reveal her makeup artist Vida Diaz. She walked in the room with an energetic stride, something Mikayla envied at the moment. She was pushing in a wheeled, clothes hanger cart holding a garment bag. "Hey girlfriend," Vida said cheerfully, her coral glossed lips parting to reveal blindingly white teeth. Vida Diaz was an exotic, Latina beauty with jet black hair cropped in a pixie cut with asymmetrical bangs with some dyed blue and green highlights mixed in that went perfectly with her shimmering nut brown eyes and flawless caramel skin. She's was wearing a black tank top, a flowy knee skirt dyed in shades of muted blues, olive greens and splashes of copper, complimented by a pair of knee high black boots. A pair of peacock feather earrings and a single matching feather pendant completed the look like cherries on a sundae.

Vida's eyes were shining with anticipation. "Is my canvas ready to become a masterpiece?''

"Work ya magic, sugah!''

Vida set the cart aside and pulled out her large makeup case. She chose several brushes and cosmetic jars, tubes and bottles and spread them out on Mikayla's vanity top. Listening to the upbeat tune of Tom Petty's "Free Falling,'' she proceeded to paint Mikayla's large, sparkling bright green eyes with glimmering gold eyeshadow on the lids, raisin brown-purple on the creases, and lining her eyes with copper eyeliner, making her eyes appear cat-like and pharaonic.

Next, she spread a good layer of golden glossy lipstick on Mikayla's full, pout lips. She topped off her work with some airbrush-quality foundation, some luminescent blush, gold shimmer dust, glitter gold mascara and some stick on crystals at the corners of each eye.

She turned Mikayla's swivel chair around to face the brightly lit mirror. Her amazing beauty had only been enhanced by the makeup. "You like?'' she asked hopefully. " _Love_!'' Mikayla responded, smiling so wide that her perfect, pearly teeth caught the lights of the mirrors bulbs, making her smile literally glowing. "Amazin as always, sugah!''

"You're too kind!''

Next, she unzipped the garment bag and helped Mikayla out of her cotton robe and into the costume she was to wear for tonight's performance.

It was a masterpiece of sparkling golden silk-chiffon styled to look like a toga mini dress with a low draped back, V-neckline and an asymmetric hem that hugged her toned curves in all the right places. A glittering, transparent cape of gold chiffon was attached to the jewel-encrusted wrist and armlet bracelets that came with it. The whole ensemble came complete with a pair of knee high, stiletto-heel gold gladiator boots with a high sheen that made her legs look a mile long.

The most extravagant piece of all however was the 24-karat gold crown designed to look like a large, curling olive branch, studded in tiny glimmering white diamonds. When they were done, Mikayla had been transformed into a breathtaking golden goddess of indescribable and intimidating beauty. Her designer friend Kosti had really outdone himself.

"You look gorgeous, Mikayla!" squealed Vida in frenzied delight, clapping her hands with glee. Absolutely fabulous!''

The outfit really did go perfect with the theme of Mikayla's new album "Empire.''

When they were planning the tour, Mikayla really wanted to go with an Ancient Egyptian theme. However, after hearing that Madonna planned to do the same theme for the 2012 Super Bowl that year, she decided to go with her next choice: Ancient Rome. Her manager had persuaded her that it was a much better choice anyway, as the Roman Empire that been the one to conquer Ancient Egypt.

Mikayla smiled back at her reflection in the mirror. However, Vida noticed that the popstar's usually dazzling smile was somewhat lacking in zeal. "Hey girl what's wrong?'' she asked, concerned. "Nuttin's wrong, honey,'' Mikayla said in a confident tone. "Ever'thing's fahne.''

"You don't seem all that fine.''

"Jus' got a few things on mah mahnd, 's all.''

"What kind of things?'' Vida looked Mikayla square in the eye. Her face softened. "Is it the whole mutant-human tension?''

"A lil' bit.''

It wasn't surprising that Mikayla had confided in Vida long ago that she was a mutant; seeing as how Vida was a mutant herself.

Vida possessed the power to create ranged bolts of pure kinetic energy. Anywhere, from small cherry bomb like orbs that did little more than crackle and pop, to massive streams and balls with enough force to destroy an entire city block, Vida was basically a walking time bomb. This particular gift of hers earned her the moniker "Bombshell,'' coined by Mikayla herself. It was the fact that that they were fellow mutants that was one of the reasons she and Mikayla had bonded so well.

"Don't you think you should talk to someone about this?'' asked Vida. "Why?'' responded Mikayla, "So sum fuckin shrink can bilk meh outta a hundred an' twenteh bucks an' hour. Ah got a psychiatrist back 'ome an' he's married ta mah Momma. At leas' ah get unwanted advahce fo' free!''

Vida couldn't help but laugh at that.

The sound of someone else knocking at the door brought Mikayla out of her thoughts. It opened and a man stuck his head in. "Am I interrupting?''

"Not at all, Bernie, ya'll can come in.''

Bernard "Bernie" Mancuso was a barrel chested man with a very round yet trim torso, broad shoulders and long legs (giving him a height of 6'5). He was a handsome man with black hair slicked and coiffed stylishly, steel blue eyes and had skin a nice shade of tan thanks to self-tanner. His expensive, pinstripe Armani suit and raw silk tie from Japan accentuated his high rank in Mikayla's entourage as her manager/agent.

He flashed Mikayla a thousand-watt, Crest strip-enhanced smile. "Ya look beautiful, baby girl, ya really gonna knock him dead tonight!'' His Brooklyn accent rang out gleefully.

"Thank ya, sugah, and ''said Mikayla. "Ain't ah jus' gorgeous?''

" _Drop dead_ gorgeous! The whole place is packed, sweetie. It's a full house out there!''

"Fantastic!'' Mikayla tried to smile back, but only managed a small, barely there grin. Bernie caught on immediately; his eagle eyes never missed a thing. Turning to Vida, he told her politely, "V, could ya give us a moment?'' Vida nodded her head, packing up her things with surprisingly lightning fast speed. With a final smile and thumbs up to Mikayla, she breezed out the door, the sound of her heels click-clacking down the hall.

For a few moments, "Linger'' by the Cranberries was the only sound lingering in the room. Some awkward tension in the air began to stifle the atmosphere. Bernie broke the silence first. "What's wrong kiddo, really?''

"Ah'm okay, honey. Ah really am.''

Bernie wasn't buying it. If there was one thing, he was good at, it was reading people like a book, almost supernaturally even; and he was only _human_. "Come on, Kaye (his nickname for her. At least it wasn't Mickey-she hated that), I know something's bothering ya. What is it?'' He suddenly got a knowing look in his eyes. "Was it the wars?''

Mikayla peered up at him, something required as he was a full foot taller than her. She blew a sigh of exasperation. "Yeah.''

"Which one?''

"All o' 'em.'' Her voice sounded tired.

Bernie eyes watered slightly, his gut drawing in somewhat as he inhaled a breath. He reached out and pulled Mikayla into a large bear hug. "Ah kiddo, I'm so sorry,'' his voice told her softly, dripping with concern. "Ya shouldn't have had to been exposed to all that shit. All that blood, guts, violence, all that ugliness." His voice suddenly took on a sharper, angrier tone. "Ya were just a kid then, what the hell was S.H.I.E.L.D thinking!''

Mikayla really hated to be reminded that she was once a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, but it was what it was and there was no use in arguing. "Someone 'ad ta do it, sugah,'' she told Bernie quietly into his chest. The scent of his expensive cologne filled her sensitive nostrils. "Someone has ta make sure all them psycho mothafuckas in the world don' go destroyin innocent lahves an ya know it! Ah'm jus' grateful ah got the pawher an' the skills ta put 'em down.''

"I still don't have to like it, Kaye. You ain't a fuckin weapon-not then and not now- you're a _person_!'' He wrapped his arms tighter around her, a few warm, salty tears spilling from his eyes onto her shoulder. This made Mikayla's heart swell three times its size with emotion.

As her manager, Bernie was obligated to look after her affairs, organize her schedule and make sure the show ran smoothly and without fail. He wasn't, however, obligated to give a damn about her. And yet he did. He loved her like she was his own daughter and he told her that all the time. He always had her best interests at heart and he never lied to her or hurt her in anyway. Indeed, he felt like another father figure to her.

When she had started her career at Neo Sound Records, Bernie had been assigned as her manager, and he came through for her fully since day one. When she left Neo Sound to form her own label, Siren Records, he had loyally followed her all the way; he may have been twice as shrewd and cunning as an Arab trader when it came to business, but he was a loyal and loving as a golden retriever when it came to family and friends.

Mikayla's head more full of spiderwebs than the No Doubt song trilling from the radio speakers- so light and heavy at the same time. She let Bernie hold her for a few minutes longer.

"Ya know, Kaye,'' she heard him speak at last as he regained his composure, "I really hate to suggest this, but…maybe we should consider cancelling the show tonight. We'll say ya got sick or something, refund peoples' money, the works. Ya should be getting some rest.''

"Are ya fuckin high, B?!'' Mikayla meant no offense and he knew it. She was just surprised. "Ah ain't nevah walked away from a show 'fo' an' ah sure as hell ain't gonna start now!''

"But Mikayla-"

"No buts, sugah! Did ya stop ta think o' all the damage that's gon' 'appen if we cancel, Bernie? People gon' riot, they trample all o'er each othah, they might even take it ta the street. People might get killed fo' Christ's sake! No, we ain't cancellin! We jus' got ta git through this show. This 's the last show of the whole tour. Aftah this, we all get a nahce, long break. Ever'thin's gon' be fahne, Bernie, ya'll see.''

Bernie scratched the side of his head nervously. He looked more concerned about Mikayla's welfare than about losing money on a show if cancelling were to happen. Still, he nodded his head, "All right, Kaye, if that's what you want.''

"It is.''

He nodded his head. "I'll go let the stage crew know you'll be ready in three minutes. It's nearly curtain call.'' And with that, Bernie straightened his suit and headed out the door, letting it close behind him.

Mikayla braced herself on the vanity top, piercing eyes staring her reflection down. "Ya bold, ya strong, ya fearless! Ya got this girl! Go give 'em hell!'' She repeated her self-created inspirational mantra to herself three times before she stood up, straight and stiff like a soldier. Blowing a kiss to the mirror, she sauntered out into the hallway towards the stage.

She stepped onto a special rising platform that was positioned under the stage that would allow her to make a dramatic, flashy entrance. Her eyes were steeled with resolver, her entire body poised to perfection.

"All raght, ya'll. Let's do this!''

xXx

Mikayla stood in the back parking lot of the Garden, watching as the roadies packed the last of the equipment onto trucks and buses. She had exchanged her glittery, Las Vegas-like costume for a much simpler outfit consisting of a teal shirt, dark grey jeans and dark brown boots. Her makeup was lighter and her hair flowed freely in the early April night breeze.

The show had been incredible; had gone off without a hitch. Banners had waved in the air, displaying Shelby's profile of her "Empress Shelby Augustus'' guise (something her publicist Ursula had come up with), back up dancers dressed like slave girls and gladiators had done their routine perfectly, confetti and flowers had rained down onto the stage, smoke cannons and pyrotechnic effects had created a dazzling display and she had looked resplendent in her costume. After three hours of doing new songs from the album, plus several classic Shelby Laine songs, the grand finale had been flaunted: Shelby and her entire entourage disappearing off stage in a flourish of colored smoke and rainbow fireworks. The crowd had thundered with applause, rising up like a tidal wave in standing ovation.

And now, now it was over. Mikayla inhaled and exhaled deeply, soaking in the cool night air. Although she loved performing with every fiber of her being, and didn't even see it as work, it was a relief to be able to focus on the more important things that were about to unfold that night.

She turned her head to see a shiny black Lincoln town car pull up beside her. The chauffeur got out and swiftly headed to open the door nearest her. She nodded her thanks and slid onto the rich Corinthian leather seat inside. Bernie was waiting in the seat next to her. He signaled the driver and the town car pulled out smoothly into the New York City traffic.

"It was a great show, kid,'' said Bernie, "ya pulled it off beautifully.''

"Lahke ah told ya.'' She flashed him a sly smile. "An ya wurr so worried, sugah. Ya should be careful o' ya gon' age twenty years ovah naght.''

He playfully rolled her eyes at her. "Yeah, yeah. Just looking out for ya, don't need to get all preachy. Before I forget,'' he slid an iPad towards her. The screen displayed the open clamshell-&-pearl logo of Lumina Unlimited, the multi-billion dollar corporation of which Mikayla was the founder and CEO of. "Just a few things that need your attention: the sales quotas are up on the Luster cosmetics line, the mechanics at Lumina Airlines are waiting for your okay to upgrade the engines on the planes, Venus Studio producers want to know which poster to use for the new Derek Kincaid movie _At Close Range_ , and the flagship Planet Burger in Lexington wanted to remind you of the "surprise'' visit from the food critic next month.''

Mikayla responded without hesitation, never pausing to breathe. "Tell sales reps fo' Luster ta keep up the good work an' tell 'em if they can boost sales even furthah in the next two months, they git a paid vacation; tell the boys ta go 'head an' work on the planes; use the second posta they pitched ta meh-the one wit' Derek's good shade- an' tell Planet Burgah ta clean dat place top ta bottom till it shahnes-and ta not skimp on the secret sauce, dat makes de whole damn burgah.''

Bernie punched in Mikayla's commands into the iPad, sending it via text message to all the parties awaiting them.

Lumina Unlimited, like the name suggested, dealt in nearly unlimited business ventures: construction, steel, aerospace, pharmaceuticals, food, agriculture, entertainment, technology, weapons-if it existed, Lumina did it. Mikayla had started the company from the ground up when she was only fourteen years old and, thanks to unparalleled business skills and leadership on her part, in a few short years, Lumina had become one of the most powerful corporations in the entire world, landing Mikayla as number two on the "Top Five Richest People in the World'' list. This lead to another moniker of Mikayla's: Miss Midas: "everything she touched turned to gold.'' Even Tony Stark himself had called Shelby Laine (for she used her stage name even in business) a "Titaness'' in the financial world.

Once he was done, Bernie set the iPad aside. "So,'' he began, "I'll bet you're eager to get back to L-Town and see Rose, Roland and Howard, huh?'' He was off course referring to Mikayla's mother, father and stepfather respectively. "Actualleh,'' said Mikayla, "ah'm plannin' on spendin a lil' tahme in upstate New York; Westchestah ta beh 'xact.''

"Ya kiddin me, right Kaye? Westchester? It's a completely unglamorous backwater up there. Why would ya want to go?''

"Firs' o' all,'' Mikayla giggled, "it ain't a backwateh, sug. Westchestah was built ta beh a resort town fer the wealthy elite o' New York; 's got small town charm an' 's nahce an' quiet up there. Ah lahke ta take a break from the ultra-glam metropolis' lahke LA an' NYC once an' a while.''

Once again, Bernie demonstrated his uncanny ability to flesh out peoples' true intentions by giving Mikayla a skeptical gaze. "Seriously Kaye, what's going on? Out of the blue, ya just decide to drop in on an off-the-radar place like Westchester? Especially when, just last month, ya were raving about wanting to spend some time back in your hometown.'' His gaze turned softer. "Kaye. Whatever's going on, ya can trust me, ya know that.''

Mikayla turned her head away from his gaze, preferring instead to focus on the whirling colors and lights of the hustling-bustling city outside as they whirred past her. Of course she trusted him; there was never any doubt about that. But, the less people who knew about her plan, her mission, the better. She'd been planning it the better part of a month now and it had to come together without flaw.

"Look, sugah. Don' worry yerself 'bout it. Jus' trust that there's some things ah got ta take care o'; some new things ah got ta take on. Don' mean ah won' let ya know 'ventualleh. Jus' not now.''

"But why? Why not let someone help you out, Kaye? Sometimes I think you try to take on the world by yourself too much. Even _you_ can't do everything alone.''

"Trus' meh honey, ah won' beh alone on this. Jus' relax…an' puh-leaze don' worry.''

Rubbing the back of his head, Bernie finally exhaled in exasperation. "Okay. I won't worry and I'll let you do whatever it is that you're doing, God only knows what.'' He looked at Mikayla with teasing eyes, a dark brown brow rising gracefully. "Ya know, Kaye, it's a mystery how you're mind works.'' Mikayla only looked back at him, her green eyes looking positively sinister as her lips curled into a smirk. "Mah mahnd ain' jus' a mystery, sugah, 's an entireleh diff'rent realiteh a'' t'gethah. One ya don' wanna get los' in.''

They both shared a good laugh about that.

Soon they reached a towering apartment complex; the tallest apartment building on the Upper East Side.

Labeled The Pinnacle, 520 Park Avenue was the crown jewel of Manhattan (spoiler alert: she owned the whole building)!

And, at the very top of the brick and limestone tower, was Mikayla's palatial penthouse. The priciest pad ever created in New York City. Mikayla owned several s all over the world-it left a lot more money in the budget to put up her crew in nice hotels and made it so she had her own private place to chill when on tour.

The triplex pad was a shining example of just how far immeasurable wealth could take you.

The building, set between 60th and 61st Sts., was the city's most successful apartment tower.

The 12, 400 square-foot penthouse, completed over three years ago, was the largest apartment ever built in New York City history.

The town car stopped outside the manicured curbside. The doorman, dressed and pressed in a posh red doorman's uniform rushed to Mikayla's side of the door in an instant, opening it and helping her step out onto the cement. "Good evening, Miss Laine. And how did your concert go?''

"Lahke a dream, Marty,'' beamed Mikayla, stuffing a crisp, one hundred dollar bill into his breast pocket. "Whah don' ya take the rest o' the evenin' off, sugah? 's a gorgeous naght out an' the citeh lahfe 's electric.'' Of course, being she was the building's _owner_ and he was her _employee,_ she could give him the liberty of getting off early. Marty smiled in gratitude, "Thank you, ma'am. Thank you very much!'' With a tip of his hat, he ran off to find his replacement for the night shift.

Mikayla ducked her head to the open window, peering at Bernie tender eyes. "Membah, sug: no worryin.' Whah don' ya head on home? Maggie'll beh happeh ta see ya.'' Bernie smiled. "I will, Kaye. Just promise me you'll be careful?''

"Ah will, hon. Ah'll call ya as soon as ah can. Naw go on, git!'' She smiled widely.

"So touchy all of a sudden!'' joked Bernie as he and Mikayla shared a chuckle. With a final wave, Mikayla watched as the car pulled back out in the late evening traffic, watching as it soon disappeared from sight.

Throwing her shoulders back with ease, she lifted her chin and strode confidently into the Pinnacle's lobby.

The lobby was expansive, airy and luxurious. Floors were tiled in sparkling, mica-flecked champagne-colored tile, the glaring gleam of the massive, glittering crystal chandelier above her head reflecting in the floors mirror-like sheen like fire. Plush red carpets held Baroque-style furniture in the waiting area, a trickling, serene waterfall attached to one wall was flowing musically into a small koi pond. Marble pillars holding expensive vases full of fragrant flowers were strategically placed in every corner and the walls were a relaxing yet vibrant shade of peach, giving the impression that the whole color palette of the lobby had been inspired by the sunrise and sunset.

Milling around or heading in-and-out into the city were the numerous wealthy inhabitants who lived in the apartment building. Mikayla stood out a bit in her jeans and boots among their silk evening gowns, expensive furs, glittering jewelry, crisp tuxes and sharp business suits. Nevertheless, she sashayed passed them with the poise and grace of royalty, perfectly comfortable and undaunted, and the old money bluebloods could see that she belonged with her self-assured behavior too.

The staff of workers widened their eyes and stiffened their postures as they saw their golden-haired boss pass them, quickly bowing in respect or addressing her with polite gestures and words. Those who had been standing around quickly went back to work and those who were already at worked appeared to work even harder than before. Mikayla couldn't help but roll her eyes: she had told them so many times that they didn't have to be stiff in front of her, to just relax. However, her reputation commanding respect and not putting up with any shit from anyone while in business mode was nefarious in the worlds of entertainment and high finance.

Crossing over to a private elevator that took her straight to her penthouse, she took out a key and pushed it into a port on the button panel; the elevator couldn't open without it. The gold-painted metallic doors opened with a _Swoosh,_ and she stepped into the mirror-lined walled, red carpeted compartment. She made a mental list of all she had to do as the elevator gently but swiftly transported her up to the top floor. A loud DING alerted her that she had arrived.

The doors opened and Mikayla entered the penthouse. The house was massive and luxurious to no end. Consisting of three floors, with eight bedrooms, nine bathrooms, two powder rooms, an art gallery, a library, a staff quarters (which were currently empty as they had time off), a salon, a gym and sauna, an indoor-&-outdoor pool, a rooftop terrace and conservatory, a gourmet kitchen, a grand dining room, three living rooms, fourteen fireplaces, a movie theatre and a truly opulent master suite, it was more of a "palace in the sky" then your average penthouse.

Mikayla quickly raced across the marble floors, up the curving staircase to the master bedroom. Checking a quick glance at her iPhone, the time displayed across the screen was 10:56. Only twenty minutes until it happened. She had to be there on time!

She blew through the door of her master bedroom, decked out in lightwood floors, pink walls with white and gold panels, a huge pink silk canopy bed and a large white marble fireplace. On the bed was another iPad just like the one Bernie had used. Grabbing it quickly, she flew back out the door and back into the elevator. She opened the button panel inside to reveal a secret panel just behind the first one. Punching in a series of codes, the elevator smoothly went down.

When the doors opened again, they revealed a small, narrow stone corridor leading to Mikayla's private parking garage. A reinforced steel door cast an intimidating gleam at the end. Mikayla walked up to the door and entered in another series of codes on another panel. After a thumbprint and retinal scan, the door opened automatically in loud mechanical sounds. Inside the small but spacious cement garage was Mikayla's Hennessey Venom GT.

The sleek and powerful sports car (the fastest on Earth, clocked at 270 mph), stood like a proud, fierce predator waiting to strike amidst its lair of stone and steel. A deep royal blue, shined and waxed to perfection, you could practically hear it purr in contentment and beam with pride (and why shouldn't it? After all, it was a Southerner, straight out of Texas). Mikayla smiled as she strode over and placed her hands on the hood. "Hello, baby, did ya miss Momma?'' she cooed in a soft voice, stroking the hood like a kitten.

The car had been a birthday gift to her for her 21st birthday exactly three months ago to the day. It had been gifted to her by the president of Hennessey Manufacturing Engineering as a thank you for starring in the commercial for the car when its brand new 2012 model was debuted last fall.

A week after she'd received it, she had it heavily upgraded by her very own team of scientists: nitro methane afterburners, ceramic fractal armor panels, oil slick dispensers, smoke emitters, grappling hooks for anchoring during high speeds, superhydraulics, plasma cannons, dashboard radar, Geiger counter, emergency searchlights, closed circuit television, impact absorbers, gyroscopic wheels, 60 mm cannon/high explosive penetrator shells, air brakes with regenerative energy mechanism, advanced synthetic fiber composite wheels, remote guidance systems, electromagnetic ejector seat, Lumina Tech 1200 bpm hybrid power cell, immobilizer missiles, cloaking device, containment unit and so much more.

Basically, the Batmobile had nothing on this baby!

It might seem a bit extreme that a pop diva would upgrade a simple car into a weapon on wheels. However, if there was anything her years in S.H.I.E.L.D. had taught her, was that fortune had a tendency to favor those who were prepared-for anything and everything.

Sliding onto the supple, buttery soft ostrich leather of the driver's seat, she set the iPad on the passenger's seat next to her. Looking straight ahead, her eyes glowed brightly in the darkness as her eyes pierced through the veil of space and time, gazing into the infinite void to scan the world. She sought out where exactly she needed to go; she saw it as if it were in front of her: a dark alley on a street in Salem Center.

What was Mikayla's mutant powers, you might be wondering? To put it simply: cosmic manipulation; an incredibly powerful and rare ability over cosmic energy and the control over the cosmic forces of the universe themselves. It offered her a very wide range of abilities: manipulating all forms of energy and matter, telekinesis, cosmic teleportation, hyper super strength, warp speed, absolute agility & reflexes, cosmic awareness, fundamental forces manipulation, reality warping, control over planets, nebulae, suns, moon, stars & the space-time continuum, cosmic creation, and so, so much more; so much like a goddess of the stars on Earth. But, it wasn't just that she could manipulate cosmic energy; she could _generate_ it from her body too, in unlimited amounts.

It was because of all of this that made a girl like Mikayla a valuable contribution to S.H.I.E.L.D., or any other organization on Earth-good or bad.

She was also, as labeled by specialists, an Omega-level mutant. Some even said she might've been beyond Omega-level, which before her, was thought impossible. It was because she was Class 5 that was one of the reasons S.H.I.E.L.D. had left her alone when she quit-they knew crossing her was tantamount to certain suicide.

Mikayla wasn't an evil person; she wasn't even malicious or bad. However, she could be absolutely frightening and unforgiving when she needed to be. After all, there was nothing wrong in knowing you were a force to be reckoned with and making sure everyone else knew that too. It was empowering even.

After finding her destination, she concentrated as the hot pink glow of her energy surrounding the whole car. Before a full blink of an eye could even be made, she and her car had disappeared in a flash of bright hot pink light.

She materialized in the alley she had saw in her mind. Being in tune with the cosmic energy of the universe afforded Mikayla omni-senses, allowing her to see everything in the universe and beyond, sometimes all at once if she wished (although she didn't recommend the latter, as it could give you a terrific headache). She peered out the windshield. Salem center was quiet that night, the town seemingly void of people. Street lights were lit, a gentle breeze was blowing, the fat, silvery full moon hanging overhead shining its brightest and merriest on a tranquil scene below. However, if her vision had been right, it wouldn't be that way for long. And her visions were _always_ right.

Aside from her cosmic manipulating powers, Mikayla had a few other abilities. One was her ability to see the future in her dreams; the very first superpower she had ever discovered. It had manifested the night before her flashier powers had come: she'd seen in her dreams of her becoming a mutant the following day, detail-for-detail. Sadly, she could only _see_ the future while she was asleep; when she was awake, it merely acted a powerful intuition, a sort of gut instinct, more knowing than actually seeing. She never knew why this precognitive power switched levels between asleep and awake, but she never complained about it.

And, it was for that reason she was there tonight.

Her other power, well, you see in just a few moments...

She checked the digital clock on the dash: 11:14. Only two more minutes! Flipping the switch of the cloaking device on, she watched in satisfaction as the cloaking field surrounded the car, rendering it-and her-completely invisible to, not only the naked eye, but all forms of infrared and ultraviolet radiation-based detection technology as well. Closing her eyes, she gathered her energy all around her in an aura of hot pink, letting the powerful force alter the electrons and particles in her clothing on the subatomic level, transforming them completely. When she opened her eyes, her outfit had changed from civilian mode to superhero chic.

It was a fairly new outfit, designed by her: a Vibranium-lined purple spandex corset top, squeezing her C-cup breasts up and forward for the perfect lift, supple but durable leather pants that clad her legs like second skin and marble heeled purple leather boots, tipped in Vibranium. A black leather utility belt circled her trim waist, the front emblazoned with a silver six-pointed star, the bottom most prong jagged like a lightning bolt-her personal symbol. A black leather shrug bolero jacket, the shoulders and under the forearms featuring Vibranium-armored panels, hugged her arms like best friends and her hands were covered by fingerless cropped black leather gloves.

The whole outfit looked deceptively simple, but was in fact, made of the most advanced, most virtually indestructible and expensive material on Earth: durable, fireproof, and as comfy and breathable as Egyptian cotton.

Mikayla cast her eyes back out the windshield as she crossed her arms over her chest, counting down the last thirty seconds of the final moment left in her mind. Her heart was beating rapidly in excitement, every nerve and muscle in her body trembling as though she were a gong struck by an iron hammer. She gripped the steering wheel, surprisingly not so tight considering what was about to go down. The sound of her perfectly manicured nails echoed against the leather as she drummed the tips on the wheel.

 _Fahve, fo', three, two, one_...

The time was just now 11:16 PM. _Showtime!_

And just like clockwork, the sounds of gunfire, metallic whirring of truck wheels and heavy footsteps sounded from the far end of the street on her left. Shouts pierced the night air, angry and threatening. Clutching the steering wheel, Mikayla gazed outside.

Running out just in front of her, was a short but heavily muscled, stocky and athletic masked man clad in yellow-and-blue spandex, a red belt circling his waist had a large X stamped across the buckle: the symbol of the X-Men. Shining metal claws protuded from his gloved knuckles, more lethal than any knife or sword could ever be.

Wolverine!

A smile spread across Mikayla's pink lips. "There you are.''

Just as she predicted, he was being chased by the blighted MRD soldiers, the mutant-poaching insects scurring down the hard, black tar in hot pursuit of their mutant prey. Mikayla couldn't help but chuckle to herself. _Prey_! _Don' those boys bah know that Wolvie ain't nobody's prey...he's the predator of all predators._

Her head turned gracefully sideways right as she watched the Canadian wolfman run down the street, MRD close behind. A man with unmistakable red claw marks striped clean across his face was leading the mob.

"Ah, Colonel Moss,'' purred Mikayla to herself with a touch of sugary sarcasm to her voice, "Ya lookin' good as evah, sweetheart.''

She got out of the car, leaving the engine running and the cloaking field up. "Ah think it's tahme ah had meh a chat wit them boys.''

xXx

Wolverine couldn't believe his damnable bad luck.

Here he was, just out for a little recon mission to MRD headquarters, just minding his own business while hijacking their top secret files, and what happens? He gets an entire unit of those fucking MRDies on his tail. Well, so much for smooth sailing?

He rounded a corner, only to find a smattering of MRDies forming a barricade on the other side, guns raised, ready to fire. And he could tell by their expressions that most of them were a little more than trigger happy. He heard the sound of the footsteps behind him halting, but the sound of cruel chuckling beginning.

"Well, well, mutant!'' came the harsh, grating voice of Colonel Moss as he came to stand some ten or so feet away from Wolverine, "looks like you've reached a dead end. You've got nowhere to run.'' Wolverine snarled, baring his fangs. "Ain't no such thing as a dead end, bub! Ya just gotta know the right places...'' he paused to raise his shining talons in plain sight, "to cut through!''

"Your little steak knives aren't going to help you out this time, Wolverine!'' Colonel Moss signaled for his men to aim their weapons towards his foe. "In my experience, metal does so little effect against plasma lasers.''

"Well then, Moss, bring it!''

The sounds of gun chambers could be heard clicking in unison.

"Now, now, boys...''

The MRD, Moss and Wolverine froze stiff as a sultry, velvety and musical voice breezed across the atmosphere like a soothing trill.

"'S that realleh a constructive use o' energeh?''

They turned to see where the voice had come from. Sauntering out of the shadows, was the most beautiful young woman any of them had ever seen. Her long, waist-length hair, the color of spun gold, shimmered and sparkled brightly in the streetlight, a few stands flowing down the front of her body to frame her gorgeous, symmetrical oval-shaped face of soft, dainty features. Her large eyes blazed with a bright, olivine green glow, dusted by long, luxurious lashes. Her fair skin was the color of porcelain, and just as smooth and flawless. Her full, succulent pink lips were spread into a coy smile. Her black and purple outfit clung to her fit, slender and curvy body in all the right places, leaving nothing to the imagination; the stuff of the wildest male fantasies.

Wolverine couldn't take his eyes off her, and neither could any of the other hot-blooded males there. He watched as she strode right up to Colonel Moss, wide, shapely hips swinging in perfect rhythm like a song. "Sugah,'' she told the MRD leader, "No need ta get all hot an' bothahed. Don' need ta come ta that, now.'' Wolverine thought he could almost drown in pleasure as that sweet, honeyed Southern drawl fell delightfully on his ears. It was enough to make a man roll over on his back like an obedient dog in surrender.

He watched as Colonel Moss' Adam's apple bobbed up and down slowly in a nervous gulp. The Colonel?! Nervous?! Who was this girl?!

"Ma'am,'' Colonel Moss finally managed to choke out, trying hard to regain his composure, "y-you shouldn't b-b-be h-here. T-this is official MRD business, and t-that m-mutant,'' he pointed a finger at Wolverine, "'s dangerous. Y-y-you could get hurt.''

"Aw, honeylamb, 'ow sweet!'' the woman ran a finger down Moss' cheek in a slow, seductive manner. He trembled at her touch. Her lips formed a tender pout, her lashes fluttering like butterfly wings. "Ya worried 'bout lil ol' meh? Ah'm positiveleh blushin, sug.''

Moss showed a surprising amount of gentleness as he pushed her hand away, his face flushed red as a beet, momentarily covering up the red of his scars. "Young lady, I'm going to have to ask you to leave!'' He was firm in his command, but the waver in his voice could be heard somewhat.

Wolverine was starting to get amused by the scenario playing out in front of him.

The young girl raised a slender brow, her lips curled in a smirk, her eyes shining with mischievous glee. She stood slightly on tip toe, her dainty hands placed in a gentle manner on the human's shoulders as she near her faced towards his. Moss' eyes widened, and so did Wolverine's. Was she going to kiss him? Wolverine watched as the blonde's lips stopped a hairsbreadth from Moss' thin, dry lips, Moss' face turning even redder and he was gulping hard. In the last minute, she slowly eased her head over to place her lips next to his ear. Wolverine saw her lips move as she whispered something discreetly to him, so quiet that even he couldn't hear what she was whispering.

In an instant, as she pulled away, Moss stood up straight and stiff as a soldier, saluting her in high respect. "Yes ma'am! Right away ma'am! Consider it done!'' He turned to his men, who had been gazing in curious wonderment at the exchange of words between their leader and this woman. "Fallback men! We're heading out! We're done here!'' The MRD agents looked taken aback, their jaws agape. One of them tried to speak, "But sir…!''

"You have your orders!'' Colonel Moss' voice penetrated the still air, his angry glare aimed in their direction, letting them know his decision was final. All the while, the woman's smirk was ever widening.

With a small amount of reluctance, none on Moss' part, the MRD drew back in an orderly fashion, vacating the area completely. In a few minutes, Wolverine saw that only he and the woman were standing on the now quiet, empty street.

Wolverine was more than a little shocked! There was no way, no how that what just happened could've happened so easily. He quickly marched up to the woman, not so much menacingly, but still wary all the same. "Okay, darling,'' he said in his usual gruff voice, "who are you, how'd you do that, and whaddaya want from me?'' The blonde only turned her head to look at him, her expression having changed from cold and haughty, to warm and friendly.

She flashed him a glittering smile. Turning on her heel, she beckoned him with a finger as she began to walk away. "C'mon, sugah,'' her melodic voice called out, "walk with meh! Talk with meh!'' With no hesitation whatsoever, Wolverine followed behind obediently like a faithful pet hound.

The woman smiled, knowing that her power, once again, had worked without fail.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chap 2: All In**_

She led him to a small bench in a nearby park that she knew to be empty of visitors that night. She couldn't think of many that would be out and about in a city park this late at night.

Taking a seat, she patted the spot next to her. Wolverine warily lowered himself to sit beside her, never once taking his gaze off of her. She extended her hand to him. "Name's Mikayla. Nahce ta fahnalleh meet ya, Logan.'' That caught Wolverine immediately off guard. His lips curled over his fangs, "How'd ya know who I am!''

Mikayla chuckled good-naturedly. "Ya got a real gratitude problem, don' ya?''

"Yeah, I've been told before. Now, I'll ask you again, how do you know my name?''

"Well honey, ya don' get ta beh S.H.I.E.L.D.'s top agent wit'out knowin 'ow ta fahnd things out.''

"S.H.I.E.L.D.! Did Fury put ya up to this!''

"Nah, sugah.'' Mikayla waved a dismissive hand. "Ah left Fury an' 'is shit long 'go. Ah'm here on mah own tahme. See, you an' ah got summin' in common, hon: we both hate Fury's guts.''

"Got that right,'' said Logan, relaxing a bit. "That being said, what do you want?''

"Ah'm here ta offah mah valuable services ta the X-Men.''

Logan couldn't help but look at her a little more warily at that statement. "Why do ya wanna join the X-Men?''

She shrugged her shoulders, as if they were talking casually. "Ah feel y'all could need all the 'elp ya can get. We bot' know human-mutant tension's onleh getting highur and highur ever' day. Now, ah ain' got no problems wit' humans, many 'ave been very good ta meh. Ah wuddn't wan' them, o' othahs, gettin hurt.'' She rolled her eyes, a disgusted scowl forming on her lips. "We bot' know Fury ain' doin' fuckin' shit 'bout it! Whahle folk lahke you an' meh do the 'ard work o' fightin an' dyin', his lyin', cheatin', Samuel L. Jackson-lookin ass takes all the goddamn credit fer it!''

Logan grinned; he was really beginning to like this girl. "Well, I'll admit were always lookin' for more muscle.'' His grin lowered a bit. "Still, I don't know you; don't know anything about you. How long were you with S.H.I.E.L.D.?''

"Nahne years. But ah left when ah was eighteen.''

"Nine years?'' Wolverine's brows furrowed. "Eighteen? But that'd mean you were recruited by S.H.I.E.L.D. when-''

"When ah was nahne, yeah. Ya normally nevah 'ear bout the government recruitin' kids that young. But, then 'gain, ah ain't a no'mal kid. They made an 'xception fo' meh cuz they saw mah potential.''

"Why'd ya leave?''

"Personal reasons. An' bah personal, ah mean _personal_ , meanin _mah_ business!'' she gently scolded. "Plus, an' ah may 'ave mentioned it 'fo', Fury's on mah blacklist.''

"I knew Fury.''

"Ah know that.''

"Why'd he never mention you?''

"Don' know? Fury keeps all kahnds o' dark lil' secrets-many o' which ah've helped mahself ta, ta which he ain't none the wisur.''

"So…you a good guy?''

She looked at him with a small, teasing smile. "Are any o' us pure good, honey?''

"Ya know what I mean.''

She rolled her eyes again, this time out of playfulness. "If ya mean ah fight fer truth, justice, an' the American way, not ta mention the preservation o' innocent lahves, then yeah.''

"What can you do?''

"So many things, sugah. Ta put it in a blunt manneh, ah'm a cosmic energy pawherhouse. Class 5.'' Logan's eyes widened in surprise at this.

"Don' worry,' she reassured him, "ah can control them jus' fahne. Ah've 'ad mah pawhers since ah was eight years old. Ah've 'ad plenteh o' tahme ta wrangle 'em in.

Ah'm also a precog. Ah see the future in mah dreams; not when ah'm awake, though. It's intuition when ah'm awake. An', it was in a dream vision that ah saw that y'all would beh needin' mah 'elp in the days ta come.''

"Why?'' Logan curiosity was definitely piqued. And not in the good way. "What did you see?''

"Nuttin' very specific, bits an' pieces mostleh. Visions ain't always very detailed. Needless ta say, ya gonna beh facin' some very scary stuff.''

"Anything else?'' Logan asked. Mikayla couldn't suppress a giggle. "Ya promise not ta get mad if ah tell ya?'' Logan mouth began to twitch into a frown. "Why?'' he asked with a brow raised.

Mikayla smiled. "Cuz ah used it on ya.''

"WHAT!'' Logan nearly shot off the bench. His look got a bit more feral; more dangerous. "What did ya do to me?''

"Take it easy, honey, it ain't that bad,'' said Mikayla calmly as she held up her hands in surrender. "Ah merely persuaded ya.''

" _Persuaded_ me?'' Logan said the words as if they were a bad taste on his tongue.

"Yes, persuaded,'' Mikayla continued. "Ya might say that ah have a siren's voice: ah can get an'one ta do whatevah ah tell them ta wit' mah voice. Ah'll ah gotta do's uttah a single word an' there undah mah complete control. 'S a secondary mutation, one that ah got when ah was thirteen.'' Logan suddenly remembered what happened with Moss. "So…back there…ya commanded Moss to leave?''

"Ah did.''

"And me..?''

"Think 'bout it,'' Mikayla said, "wud ya 'ave followed meh hurr so easily, so willingly, had ah not done so othahwise?''

Logan did think about this. He remembered her voice-so sweet, so warm, so rich-washing over him like a wave of blissful energy; as delicious as pure honey. Her dulcet tones, haunting and beautiful, like the song of an angel, had captured his heart and soul, ensnared him completely in a web of her sound, and suddenly...he had forgotten _everything_ else. All he had felt, all that he knew in that moment was that he wanted to do _whatever_ that gorgeous voice commanded him to do, to do _anythin_ g to please the owner of that ethereal voice. He shuddered as he realized the kind of power she had held over him.

"Don't do that again!''

"Ah undahstand, sug,'' Mikayla told Logan with an understanding voice. "Ah promise ah won' use mah voice 'less ah 'ave ta.'' Logan turned away; while he believed her, he was still dubious. Mikayla breathed in a frustrated sigh, exhaling a little more slowly than she inhaled. She admired him for not believing her right away; she knew from experience that trusting someone off the bat was a rookie mistake to make, especially nowadays. Clearly, he was going to need more convincing. And, as always, she had an ace in the hole.

Smoothly, and with great confidence, she crossed one leg over the other, gazing at Logan with shimmering eyes, her lips smiling. "What if ah was ta give ya some 'ard proof o' mah dedication ta the X-Men's cause? A lil' gesture o' good faith ya might call it?'' She watched as Logan turned back in her direction. Even though he was hiding it like a world-class pro, she knew he was definitely curious…interested even. "I'm listening,'' said Logan.

Mikayla's grin widened. "Word has it that y'all lost summin' impo'tant; a mutant pawher inhibitah colla'... _again_.''

"We didn't-''

"Save it, darlin', ah know good an' well that it was stolen once befo'. Ah ain't judging ya. An', ah also 'appen ta know who it wuz that stole it, though ah git the feelin' ya know too, am I raght?''

Logan growled low, bearing his fangs, "Gambit!''

"The infamous Remy LeBeau indeed,'' Mikayla stated as she tossed her long hair over her shoulder, "an' ratheh flawlessly too, ah ave heard; got in an' out in undah ten minutes. O' course, ya an' meh bot' know he's bidin' his tahme, waitin' fo' the perfect opportuniteh-an' the perfect price-ta sell it. Fortunately fo' you, ah know whurr he 'as it stashed.''

"Where?''

"Uh-uh, sugah,'' Mikayla playfully wagged her finger at him, "that's fo' meh ta know an' you ta fahnd out. Don' git meh wrong, ah ain't tryin' ta play witcha o' anythin', but the less people who know 'bout this the bettah. Considerin 'ow easeh it wuz fo' someone ta break inta the Institute, this job should stay on the DL till 's done.

Here's mah proposal: ah git the colla' back from the Cajun, an' ya lemme join the X-Men, 's that simple. Whaddaya say?''

Logan still didn't look sure.

Mikayla's eyes narrowed a bit. "Ya gonna wait till LeBeau sells it ta Kelly 'again. Wait till Trask's able ta figure out mo' o' its secrets. Wait till 's too late?'' Mikayla tapped her chin in mock thought. "O' mebbe, he'll sell it ta a terrorist group, whurr mebbe they'll reverse engineer it ta be bot' an inhibitah colla' _an_ ' a control colla'; jus' slap it on us mutants an' they'll 'ave their own prahvate army o' mahnd-controlled mutant slaves? O' mebbe…''

"Alright, alright, I get it!'' Logan nearly shouted. "I get it and you're right; we've had no idea if whether the Cajun had sold the collar or if he held onto it. But, if you know where it's at and you can get it back, then that's good enough for me.'' He angled his body more towards Mikayla, ready for more serious discussion. "You get the collar back-you're in.''

"Excellent!'' exclaimed Mikayla as she stood up gracefully from her spot on the bench. She handed him the iPad from her bedroom, plus a disposable phone. "Untraceable,'' she told him. She began to walk away, "Ah'll contact ya in a day o' two ta let ya know 'ow 's goin.''

"Wait! What!'' Logan looked confused, "What about backup? Ya can't seriously mean yer goin' this alone.''

"Course ah ain't goin' it 'lone,'' Mikayla said, turning around to face him, "ah jus' ain't usin' any o' yer people fo' this. Lahke ah said 'fo: the less people who know 'bout this the bettah. Gambit don' know a thing bout meh; don' know ah'm helpin' the X-Men. If any o' ya friends trah ta come wit meh, he'll see it comin from mahles 'away. Fo' all ya'll know, he managed ta bug yer place whahle he wazz helpin' himself ta the colla'. If so, ah'd do a clean sweep o' yer place ta make sure.''

Logan hadn't thought about that. Hearing her say so made him want to take her advice and search the mansion top to bottom for bugs.

"An','' Mikayla continued, "don' tell an' o' the othah X-Men, o' an'one, bout what ah'm doin' fer ya; fer the same reasons. Gambit's got eyes an' ears 'round the world. But luckileh, so do ah.'' She began walking even furthah away, "Don' worreh, Logan, the situation's in good hands, belie' me.''

Logan looked at the phone and the iPad in his hands then back up to her retreating figure. "Who are you?'' Mikayla stopped in her tracks to fluidly turn around to him. Smiling coyly, she said in a voice only he could hear, "A girl's got ta 'ave some secrets. Fo' now, ya can call me Jazz. An' remembah…'' she put a finger to her lips, "Shh.''

And with that, she disappeared into the night, letting the ink-black shadows envelope her like a blanket.

 _ **So now we know what Mikayla calls herself in uniform. So, she's just offered to help get the stolen collar back for Wolverine in exchange for becoming an X-Men. In the next chapter, she'll come face to face with the Ragin Cajun himself. What will happen? How will she happen? What will she wear? You'll just have to tune in. Please keep reading and review, please!**_


End file.
